


Desperado

by lilymae92



Series: The Pompatus of Love [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:19:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilymae92/pseuds/lilymae92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever said that growing up was easy... Sometimes it's hard work, and sometimes it's heartbreaking. Everyone has a story to tell...</p><p>Sirius' POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tickle Wars

The air was crisp and warm, sun just starting to rise over the hills of the British countryside. Normally, the mornings would be chilled, gradually heating up as the day grew long. Not today, however. The heat waves had rolled back to back, sweeping over the area with a general nonchalance. There was no dew or mist, clouds foreboding in the horizon. It would be a rainy day, and young Sirius Black was quite disappointed. He peeked through the thick gold curtains that hung in front of the broad window of his bedroom, wondering if the rain would perhaps come early, and finish soon. If it did, he might be able to play in the garden later on. 

He pulled back and started for his large bed, crawling up into it and pulling back the starch white sheets. Tunneling under them, he smiled, reaching for a Quidditch comic book he had tucked under his pillow. Something his father had brought home after a business trip. It wasn't much, but it was enough to show him that he loved him some times. He flipped through the pages, rolling to lay on his stomach as he did. 

The bed was in the center of the side wall, four posters posed tall, draping gold and white curtains down to the floor. Quidditch posters lined the walls, a simple layout adorning the floors. There was a long desk, tidy and barely used, avoided as much as possible. An armoire perched in the corner, filled to the brim with clothes the boy never wore. Most were too refined for day to day play, and were reserved for outings and family gatherings. The only thing in the room that seemed to be mussed was the trunk at the end of the child's bed. Inside were some of his toys, and most of his casual clothing. Anything that couldn't fit into his bedside tables fit neatly into the trunk, though the contents of the trunk were arranged in anything but a neat way.

Sirius peeked over the worn pages of his magazine, watching as the players zoomed from panel to panel, telling a fictional story of a Seeker named Olaf. His name wasn't fitting, and his form was fragile. Yet, he somehow learned the sport, against all odds. His search for the snitch progressed over several editions, and was still in progress. He only ever caught glimpses here and there, the snitch always just out of reach. It constantly left the young boy on the edge of his seat, figuratively speaking. 

There was a soft creak of the door, another young boy sneaking in to the darkly wallpapered room, "Sirius?" The small voice hissed, just above a whisper. The child moved into the room, soft black curls bouncing lightly as he climbed up into the bed, pouncing on his older brother that was under the sheets. He giggled, rolling onto his back, "Sirius!" The older boy chuckled and squirmed, trying to shake the younger one away, "Reg! Reg, gettoff!" He laughed some more, tucking the magazine back under his pillow and moving to roll onto his back as well, using his knees to move the boy a bit, watching him squirm. 

They struggled for a few moments, trying to keep their laughter quiet, but failing miserably. What started as a bit of roughhousing ended up in a full on tickle fight, the sheets tangling around the two loosely. It wasn't until the door swung open fully that they came to an abrupt stop, their mother in the doorway with an exasperated countenance. They stared with wide eyes, color draining from the eldest child's face. 

"Your father just got home from his trip last night. He is exhausted. There is no need for you boys to be making all this noise and waking him up so early in the morning!" 

Her tone was stern, demanding the respect that she normally received. Mrs. Black glared at the older of the two, knowing it was probably his fault. He had probably instigated the entire thing... always did. Not that he always meant to. She sighed, motioning for the youngest to head to his room, "Now, Regulus. Go wash up and dress for the day. Kreacher is making breakfast."

He turned a light pink, his light gray eyes darting from his mothers' to the floor. Sliding out of bed, he started for the door, only turning back once he was in the hall to check that Sirius was alright. Walburga frowned, watching her older son with a look of disappointment, "I told you last night that your father was coming home sometime overnight. You should have known better than to rile your brother up like that." Her gaze was unnerving, Sirius sitting up straighter as he looked to his hands in his lap, "I'm sorry, mum..."

Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, slightly unraveled from the night. Her eyes were heavy with the sleep she yearned for, quite telling. Her jaw was clenched tight, body moving close until she could lift the boy up just enough to turn him to his side. She swatted at his bum roughly, the boy squirming slightly, a few of the hits ending up closer to his thighs. He whined and twisted, the sting starting to set in as his mother let him fall back to the bed. She scoffed, swallowing hard and shaking her head, starting for the door, "Clean and dress for the day. I expect you downstairs in no more than ten minutes."

There was no delay the moment the door had shut, the boy scurrying out of bed and starting for his bathroom. It was just to the side of his armoire, door already slightly ajar. He didn't like mornings like this, his bum aching lightly as he dug through the cabinets for a washcloth. Stripping off his nearly new pajama set, he folded it on the counter, knowing just how much his mother hated when he simply tossed his clothes to the floor. 

Warming the washcloth under some warm water, he lathered it with soap, washing the most important parts of his body carefully, not wanting to miss a spot. When he was finished, he folded the towel over and draped it over the tub's faucet. It could dry properly there... He didn't bother drying off his own body, knowing that by the time he had found clothes for the day, he would already be dry enough. 

Instead of reaching into his trunk for a set of play clothes, he started for the drawers of the armoire, finding some pants, black trousers, and a white button up shirt. Perhaps if he wore what his mother always insisted he wore, she would be a little less upset later on. Closing the drawers, he looked around for a belt, knowing the trousers wouldn't stay up otherwise. He found one under his bed, hiding behind the bed skirt. Thank Merlin for bed skirts...

He set his things out on his bed and dressed piece by piece, finishing by tucking his shirt in. Finding his brush in the bathroom, he carefully parted his hair and brushed it out, fighting with a few tangles of curls that were ruffled at the base of his neck. Cringing at the pull of his hair, he tossed the brush down, starting out of the room in a bit of a huff. So much for a good day. 

The hallways were dimly lit, the severed heads of the past family house elves lining the dark walls. He was accustomed to the sight by then, honestly not paying much attention to them as he started down to the kitchen to eat. The only time they ever used the actual dining room was when father was joining them, and by the way his mother had spoken that morning, he assumed that the man would not be joining him until lunch at the earliest. 

Regulus was sitting beside his mother, already carefully picking at his food, dressed in something that their mother had obviously laid out for him. It was clear that they were not going to go outside later... not if the mood didn't change drastically. Which he doubted it would... No words were spoken as he sat on the other side of his brother, Kreacher moving to serve the boy his breakfast. Sirius scoffed lightly, waving him off when he felt there was enough on his plate. It always made him sort of nauseous, seeing the wrinkly old elf. He didn't want something like that touching his food... 

Sitting up straight, he poked at the bacon and scrambled eggs with his fork, much like his younger brother had been doing when he arrived. Regulus was eating now, but Sirius didn't really feel the urge. Not yet. The sting on his cheeks still lingered, making it uncomfortable to sit in the hard wooden chair. Eventually the pain ebbed away, the silence starting to get to him. He finally ate, if only to give himself something to do.

Walburga spoke after some time, lips pursing after she took a small drink of her tea, "I have your lessons planned for today, focusing on potions." She looked between the two boys, "It's about time you start learning how to brew a proper simple poison. They always come in handy when dealing with... lesser folk." Neither of the children responded, simply nodding in acceptance. She stood when she was finished, excusing herself to the study to begin preparations. Getting out ingredients, setting up the cauldrons, placing a few charms and protection spells on her furniture. Never knew what to expect from the boys... 

Sirius waited until she was out of earshot before speaking up, pushing his plate away, "She's such a... such an... such an old hag." Regulus' eyes widened, staring at his brother in a bit of shock. If their mother had heard... He frowned, "Siri!" 

The older boy simply scoffed, resting his chin upon his palms, elbows resting on the table, "She is, though. I don't want to do potions today. I want to play outside." He watched his younger brother for a moment, "Don't tell her I said any of that, yeah?" He knew the boy wouldn't, but... He sighed, moving to get up. Might as well face the inevitable. "You finished?" The boy nodded in response to his older brother, pushing his plate away much like he had. Sirius nodded as well and moved to lead the way, pushing the chair to the side, "Then, let's get going. Maybe if we finish early, she'll take us out for the afternoon."

The likelihood that she would take them out in the afternoon was all dependent on their success in their lessons. Sirius had learned that from an early age. Usually, she was a lot nicer in the evenings, after she had been given the chance to wake up and have a few cuppas. Even when she hit him, he knew she loved them. She was just upset about their dad being disturbed. In fact, Sirius didn't even really mind getting hit. Usually, he was getting hit because he deserved it. His brother, however, he couldn't stand watching while he got a swat. Sirius would much rather take the heat than have to watch Reg cry after a rough spanking.

He led the boy down the hall and to the study, leaving the dishes and chairs a wreck for Kreacher to deal with. He forced a small smile when he saw his mom and the set up, a cage beside her with two medium sized rats within. He assumed they were going to be the test subjects... Better than having to try the potion themselves, he supposed. His mother looked to the two of them and nodded towards their practice smocks, "Come along, then. Get those on and settle in. Don't want your clothes ruined if there's a mess."

The boys quickly moved to don the white smocks, moving to sit in front of their individual cauldrons. Each smock was stained in some fashion, the few years of work in them taking quite the toll. They would need new ones soon, if anything else were to spill on them. That didn't matter, though, as they followed their mother's careful instructions, chopping ingredients with safety blades, measuring things on their silver scales, using their tiny fingers to add a dash of 'this and that'. Soon enough, both cauldrons were bubbling with a light green mixture, hints of silver swirling through with every stir. Sirius' batch was a bit lighter, whereas Regulus' batch appeared dull and flat. Walburga took a spoonful of each and deposited it into two separate small saucers, one filled with Sirius' mixture, the other Regulus'. Setting them inside the cage, she waited for the rats to catch on, each going to their own area to drink. Before long, the rats started to heave. The larger one, and consequently the one that Sirius' poison had been fed to, soon keeled over and passed away, it's tongue sticking out of it's mouth surrounded by foam. The smaller one simply wandered the cage, retching and going into convulsions. 

It wasn't until Regulus began to sob that Walburga whipped out her wand, ending the poor animal's suffering once and for all. She sighed, watching the boy curl up against his older brother to hide his face. Sirius was emotionless, still staring at the two dead rats, unsure of what to feel. It wasn't the first time he had watched his mother kill a rat that had sneaked into the house, but it was the first time that he had killed one himself. He decided in that moment that he didn't like the feeling, and silently vowed to never harm another creature like that again.

He suddenly didn't feel like going out to town anymore.


	2. Twilfitt and Tatting's

Days turned into weeks, the start of the Hogwarts school year soon approaching. The Sunday before the start of term, Walburga Black dressed her sons properly and started them out through the floo and into the center of Knockturn Alley. She had laid out a crisp three piece suit for each of them, Sirius’ in a deep grey, and Regulus’ in a light blue. Sirius fidgeted with his tie, loosening it as much as he could without being caught and scolded, knowing he was lucky enough as it was that he didn't have to wear his robes over top of the ensemble. 

Regulus shifted where he stood in the back of Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary, Sirius standing beside him with a stiff expression. He was quite used to the trips into town by then, his younger brother not as accustomed. The younger boy peered around, curious as to what lay behind the glass cabinets and countertops. When their mother turned from the counter with a cauldron full of a first year’s supplies, Sirius straightened up and tugged on his brother’s sleeve, not wanting him to appear as if he might wander off to touch things he ought not to. 

He was passed the copper cauldron and was ushered out the door, his brother bumping into him slightly as Sirius turned to look towards their mother, unsure of where they were going next. As much as he wanted to leave and do his own thing, he realized that there were only a few more days until he had complete and utter freedom, for a few months at least. He clenched his jaw, eyes firm on his mother’s as he asked, “Where now, mother?”

The way he addressed her was a tad harsher than he had meant, but she simply pursed her thin lips and motioned down the main street towards Diagon Alley, “Off to get your books.” She let out an exasperated sigh when neither of the children moved and started to lead the way, “And then your robe fitting is at noon at Twilfitt and Tatting’s, and after that we have to get you your wand.”

That was the most exciting part of it all. As much as Sirius dreaded being dragged around town in an awfully stiff suit, he was going to finally have his own wand. No more trying to sneak his father’s off of his nightstand to try to make a few sparks, or tapping his mum’s against the counter when she wasn’t looking. A wand of his own, that he didn’t need to share with anyone. A wand that didn’t act stubborn, or refuse to work. Something proper. 

He exchanged a small smile with Reg, the younger boy knowing that the next few days would be spent with him and his brother passing the wand back and forth when they were alone together, flipping through ragged spell books to try and make things happen to their toys. So, they trudged through the streets, emerging into the well-lit main road of Diagon Alley blinking at the sunlight. After a few moments, Walburga glided ahead of them, eventually motioning for them both to join her inside the confines of Flourish and Blotts. 

The store smelt of old, crinkled books, some yellowed and worn, and others new and crisp. Sirius sniffed at the air, a tinge of staleness prevailing through the hazy dust floating through the sunbeams that streamed in from the windows. He sighed and stood with his cauldron and his younger brother to the side of the counter, watching other students and their families bustle about. Another first year and his family came up to the counter looking for the same standard books, and was told to wait for another attendant. The Black family came in priority, though the shop keeper wouldn’t tell them that. 

Looking the boy over, Sirius couldn’t help but form a sort of backstory for him in his head. His robes were shoddy, his sandy blond hair tousled from his mother’s hand. Boy seemed like a pureblood, since many children with mixed heritages weren’t raised wearing robes, but obviously not a wealthy breed. He wasn’t short or tall for his age, instead quite average, but a bit on the skinny side. Certainly someone he would be able to wrestle to the ground in a matter of moments. He thought about it for a moment more, mind wandering to just how he might pin the boy down if he were to get into an altercation, only snapping back to reality when the boy’s eyes caught his. He stared for a moment and looked down to his cauldron, suddenly a bit flustered. As much as he didn’t care what the boy thought, he didn’t want him thinking he was looking down at him for his style of dress.

He clenched his jaw before peering back up at him, realizing the boy hadn’t yet looked away, and gave him a small forced smile. The boy simply frowned slightly and turned back to look at his mother and father, both of whom were discussing some sort of matter regarding books and supplies. Sirius couldn’t quite hear the conversation over the bustle of the shop, and didn’t get a chance to introduce himself before he was ushered out to the street by his mother. 

Walburga was the one to carry the books as they walked, her in the lead and the two boys trailed her side by side, much like birds during migration. They made a few stops in various stores and shops, getting Sirius a knapsack with an undetectable extension charm, an exquisite quill and ink set, several rolls of fresh parchment, and finally a small pack of candy for each of the boys on account of their good behavior. After tucking all of his belongings into his new knapsack, (cauldron included), Sirius moved to sit on a waiting bench in Twilfitt’s. 

“You stay here, me and Regulus are going to visit the Menagerie, perhaps Eeylops as well. See about getting you a proper owl.” She forced a small smile and nodded politely at the seamstress behind the desk, taking her younger son’s hand and leading him out and down the road. Sirius let out a sigh of relief as he turned his attention to the boy that was just stepping up onto a platform for measuring and fitting, smiling slightly at the way he stumbled. 

The boy reminded him somewhat of his own father, but seemed a bit more mussed, his jet black hair an untidy assortment of locks and half-curls. The robes he had been forced into hung off of him a bit too much, having had to be a few sizes too big to accommodate for his height. He caught his glance in the three mirrors surrounding his front, and rose a brow, “First year?” 

Nodding as much as he could without disturbing his seamstress’ work, he smiled a bit, “Yeah. You?” Sirius simply nodded in return, moving to stand and leave his knapsack on the bench. No need to carry it with him. He leaned against the wall closest to the boy, looking him over, from his straight and slightly pointy nose, to his nearly polished shoes, “I’m Sirius, and you are?” Purposefully omitting his last name.

“James. James Potter.” The boy seemed to puff out his chest a bit as he spoke his family name, resulting in Sirius chuckling soft, “Ah. What house you expect you’ll be tossed into?” He had heard of the Potter family name, and knew there were a few somewhere down the bloodline, “Hufflepuff?” He teased lightly, moving to loosen his tie to the point it was just barely on.

“Gryffindor,” the boy said with a devoted conviction, looking over his appearance in the mirrors, “for sure.”

Sirius simply crossed his arms and nodded, smirking a bit, “I think my mum would have a conniption if I was sorted into Gryffindor…” He lingered on the thought, murmuring, “Perhaps that’s what I should do. Demand to be let into Gryffindor.” The Potter boy simply snorted, looking back over, “Is that how it works then? You either get to choose, or you get thrown wherever the hat thinks you should be?” He rose a brow, seemingly curious. 

As if Sirius knew any more than he did.

He didn’t.

He acted like he did, however, and continued, “Oh, of course. Isn’t that how it always works? You want something hard enough and it’s going to give it to you.” He smiled, “Honestly, though. I say in a few days’ time, we’ll be house mates.” The thought of having someone as a friend, outside of his family seemed novel, something he had never really had the chance to experience before.

He could tell the other boy was about to say something else when Sirius was ushered into the back for measurements. He could only wave to his (hopefully) new friend, doing a half jog to catch up with his seamstress. By the time he was dragged out to finish the final fitting, the other boy had left and the room was quiet once more. 

The rest of the appointment was silent, but the silence was appreciated. It was out of respect, more than anything, from the seamstress. She knew the Black family well, having serviced them throughout the years, and knew better than to try to bring up conversation with the boy she meticulously measured and pinned and marked. It wasn’t until his mother returned and she had finished that a light conversation struck up between the two adult women, Sirius moving to grab his bag with a newfound confidence. 

Apparently, his mother had ordered his owl to be sent to their home, where he would be able to meet him later that evening. They had a cage he could use at home already, so his mother saw no use in buying one to drag around for the rest of the day. Regulus reassured him quietly as the women discussed a future robe fitting for the rest of the family that his owl was perfect. Quite large, with huge wings, and an impressive color. Sirius took this as a good sign and smiled, nearly bouncing on his heels as he waited for his mum to finish up. 

When she was done talking, she merely looked at the two before starting back out, trekking along to Ollivander’s. Like always, they followed along, Sirius only stopping once they reached the counter of the great Olivander himself. He stared, never having seen the man, only having heard about him through his parents. He was wise-looking, a bit older, and seemed to have a mischievous air about him. He was every bit as magical as the boy had hoped.

“Ah, Mr. Black. In for your first wand, I see.” He smiled with a bit of a wink and started towards the back of the shop, nearly so far back that Sirius thought he might disappear altogether. When he returned, he held a box with a wand tucked neatly inside, lifting the lid and passing it over, “Well, alright then. Try this one out. Might be a good fit to start.” Based on his family’s history, of course.

Regulus sat on a bench and watched on, Walburga standing aside and doing much of the same. Wand after wand was brought to be tested, each ending in a miserable mess of fiery sparks and smoke, some not even registering his powers at all. About half an hour in to the process, Sirius nearly chucked a wand back across the counter, his anger and frustration getting the best of him, “I’m never going to find a wand!” He huffed and frowned, looking towards the walls and walls of different wands with a great exasperation.

“Patience, my boy.” Olivander replaced the wand that had fallen to the floor back into it’s box and moved to a different section, one closer to the front of the shop, “Let’s try this.” He came back with a long, thin wand, various designs carved up along the sides, no real handle at the base. It fit proper in his hand, the sides slightly edged so that there was a bit of a better grip. The balance seemed right for him, and when he swished it lightly at some papers on the desk, they merely floated instead of catching on fire. When he tried to swish it again, a surge of energy pulsed through his veins, a few white sparks shooting from the tip of the wand and fading before they hit the floor.

Walburga smiled in relief, as did Olivander. After the old man gave a bit of advice as to proper handling and care, and after his mother paid for the wand itself, Sirius slid on his knapsack and started out the door, leading the way back to their designated entrance in Knockturn Alley. He grinned all the while, finally feeling as if things were going right for the first time in a long time.


End file.
